Amber, Sapphire, and Onyx
by moray
Summary: [Complete] The continuation of Sapphire and Onyx. Again, genre may differ from chapter to chapter, and a really nasty messed-up personal life enters the picture. Havoc-centric.
1. Gold

**Gold**

Roy watched Jean with a steadily-mounting concern and fear. The tall man seemed unnaturally bowed and aged with the weight of his grief for the poor little girl.

Roy would have told him that it was just the laws of nature having their way, if he didn't value his life. Jean wasn't a scientist. He couldn't see the world in all its harsh and brutal glory. It was the simple things that Jean could see, the small comforts of a child's touch, a budding flower, the scent of baking bread, the smile of a lover. The crushing pain of a tiny life snuffed out.

Roy couldn't comprehend the simple-mindedness of the man's world view, couldn't understand the horrendous loss that Jean had suffered over Briar's death. He tried to be sympathetic and caring. He tried to cheer Jean up.

Roy had been trained from an early age to see it all in the encompassing machinery of the world. Put things in perspective. He was a city man, bred for the University, Command, libraries, the laboratory.

Gradually, Roy and Jean had drifted apart, Liza bringing the aching man under her stable and loving wing. She could understand the grief, the agony, the responsibility.

Roy couldn't. So he drowned himself in brilliant gold, basking in the heat of amber eyes. He found comfort in the kindred mind of a restored Ed, found a cold warmth in the young man's arms.

There was no more laughter, no more shining sapphire, no more gentle touches. It was all pure science now, with no human touch to make the pain of separation bearable.


	2. Glimmer

**Glimmer**

Ed slowly woke, smiling, lazy from sleep and pleasure. He curled closer to the furnace heat of Roy's body, mumbling something incoherent.

The older man shifted to accommodate his body, murmuring something that sounded heartbreakingly like 'Jean'.

Dark amber softened. The breakup had been difficult, he knew. Six months had passed, and still Roy sometimes called out for the taller blonde.

Ed sat up, running his human hand over the side of Roy's face and neck, soothing away sleep-terror. Wrinkles around Roy's tightly shut eyes smoothed out and his entire body relaxed.

Ed felt vaguely sick. Rationally, he knew that it was always hard to be a second lover, especially when the first one had lasted for a decade. But still, he hated Havoc for keeping the majority of Roy's attention. He hated the man for requesting a transfer and keeping Roy so distracted that he couldn't think.

His metal hand clenched. He may have hated the man, but he could see why he had done it. Roy had no capacity for grief, no time to mourn for what could have been. Roy just didn't _care_ like Havoc did.

Ed wasn't entirely sure that Roy could even truly _love_ someone.

The world glimmered like he was underwater. He put his head down on drawn-up knees and let the sadness overwhelm him.


	3. Grief

**Grief**

Havoc was in trouble. The filing cabinet had decided to spontaneously explode (or was it implode?) at some point in time and he was the one that got stuck reorganizing the damn thing.

"I'm either blaming this on the General or Fullmetal" he announced to the office at large. "And when I get my hands on those two, they're going to wish they were dead."

"Nice to see you back to your old, cheery self" Farman commented dryly. " 'Cheery' being damn well relative."

Havoc huffed at him around his cigarette. "Squinchy-eyed bastard."

"Mind your language" Liza said mildly from her desk.

It was a measure of the relationship between the two blondes that Havoc could huff at her and get away with it.

Of course the third blonde chose that exact moment to barge in demanding to see Mustang. Havoc wasn't too thrilled about seeing Fullmetal, especially since he had a nagging feeling that Elric had something to do with the state of disarray.

So, being himself, he pegged a bottle of ink at the young man.

The alchemist's squawk could probably have been heard in Ishbar.


	4. Grateful

**Grateful**

Havoc yawned, stretching lazily and luxuriously. He was on his week off, and had decided to hit the local library for some classics to read. So far, he had read halfway through _The Odyssey_, Dante's _Divine Comedy_, and _Sandman. Sandman_ was a little odd, a format he'd never really gotten used to, but he liked the story. He really could identify with the characters.

A knock pounded on his apartment door. He ignored it, assuming it just to be squirrels up in the crawlspace of the apartment complex invading the human world.

But the pounding increased, much to his annoyance. Growling in an offended manner, he managed to haul himself out of the obscenely comfy leather chair that he had wedged himself into.

He wobbled to the door, his legs damnably asleep. He collapsed against the venerable wood, hand groping for the knob. "Yeah, what" he growled, hauling the door open.

Edward Elric stood on the landing, wet, bedraggled, and utterly miserable. Havoc's eyebrows shot upwards. "Could I crash here for the night" the nineteen-year-old asked.

His eyebrows climbed even higher. "How the hell did you find out where I lived"

"Roy told me. He said that if I ever needed someplace to hide out that I should come to you."

_Throwing your trash on me, Mustang_? Havoc thought bitterly. "Did he, now"

"He said that you were a lot better to trust than himself." Edward's tone colored to something spiteful. "That bastard was right. I should never had let him _touch_ me."

Concern kicked in, and Havoc held the door open. "Well, you're soaked to the skin. Come in. I'll get you warmed and fed. Anything other than that, and you're on your own."


	5. Guilt

**Guilt**

Havoc had to try really, really hard to convince himself that he honestly didn't mind the fact that Fullmetal was shacking up with him. In his apartment. Sleeping in _his_ bed. Eating food _he_ cooked.

Well... at least the kid helped out around the house.

He drew the covers closer over his head. He was snugged into his 'guest room', which in reality was more of a closet. A perfect place to hide.

"Sir"

Fuck. So much for that. "Yeah"

"Do you mind if I sleep with you? I'm kind of lonely."

"Lonely"

"Yeah." Fullmetal crawled in next to him. "Al was _always_ close by at night. In Germany, Günter, my dog, slept with me. And then, when I came back... there was always Roy..." Havoc felt the kid's arm slip over his side.

"Stand-in"

"Sorta, yeah."

"I can live with that."

"Please, don't say that. It makes me feel like a monster."

"M'm."


	6. Gloom

**Gloom**

Havoc looked up at the heavy grey sky, making a face. Armestris' weather patterns had been off lately, with the capitol getting more rain than Central East did. But hey, this was okay. He would just have to remember his umbrella more often.

Humming to himself, he ambled nonchalantly into his office. "Mornin', everybody."

Except 'everybody' turned out to be one person. The man he least wanted to have a confrontation with right now. "What is it, Mustang"

"General" Mustang corrected. "I am your superior officer, and you will address me as such."

"M'm."

"Disrespect, Captain"

"No. Just the general 'don't-give-a-damn' that I'm apparently famous for. Don't know how or why I'm famous for it." He glanced sideways at the black-haired man. "Would _you_ happen to know, General"

Mustang's eye twitched. Havoc knew from experience that it either meant Roy was going to jump him or try to hit him. Considering the recent state of affairs (in the loosest possible sense of the word), Havoc figured he'd have to duck real soon.

"Why are you sleeping with Fullmetal" Mustang demanded abruptly.

"I'm not, you twit."


	7. Grey

**Grey**

Havoc stalked home in a high bad temper. Not for the fact that he had a huge, spreading bruise on his left cheek, or even because said bruise was slightly raw. He was pissed because of that goddamn Mustang and his stupid, knowing smirk.

_"Why are you sleeping with Fullmetal?_"

"_I'm not, you twit._"

"_You will be, soon..._"

He kicked open the door to his apartment, face like a thundercloud.

Fullmetal jumped guiltily, dropping one of Havoc's history books. "Sir! I... uh, just... sorry for raiding your bookshelves..."

Havoc waved a dismissive hand. "Forget it, kid. I'm not in the mood to care." He stomped into the kitchen, trying to find a big enough chunk of ice for his cheek.

"Sir, is something wrong" Fullmetal asked, trailing along behind him.

"No" he said sarcastically. "Everything's fucking _fine_, other than the fact that Mustang accused me of sleeping with you and then punched me when I said he was being an ass. It was a _great_ day."

"You don't have to take it out on me" Fullmetal said quietly, relieving him of the ice and wrapping it in a clean dishcloth. "Roy just doesn't seem to understand that I've changed somewhat. I don't _need_ a lover, I just need a big brother. It's all in black and white for him."

"Why didn't you tell him that"

Fullmetal touched the bruise with his automail fingers. "Because I don't think he wants to hear it right now."


	8. Given

**Given**

"Checkmate."

Ed stared down at the board. "How...? You can't possibly have done a checkmate so quickly"

"It's easy when I'm playing against a novice" Havoc said cheerfully, returning Ed's pieces.

"You had a handicap" Ed said accusingly.

"It's easy to win even with a handicap. I've been playing since I was a sprat."

Ed had noticed that when Havoc was relaxed, cheerful, playful, and on leave (each one conducive to the last), his voice dropped out of the sharp urban accent that he had picked up in the military and relaxed into a lazier, gentler, more country-ish sound. Ed found it to be more pleasant.

"Hmph" he grumbled for form's sake. "I still think you're cheating."

"Jealous, are we"

"Shut up."

Havoc removed his pieces from their places, setting up his line. "I just can't see how someone as logical and intelligent as you can keep screwing up so royally in what's basically your trademark game. Coffee"

"I'd love some."


	9. Grin

**Grin**

Havoc ambled into work, rubbing the back of his neck. The scent of bitter coffee assailed him and his nose wrinkled. Wherever the kid's talents may have lain, Fury just could _not_ make a decent cup of coffee. Much less ten.

"You're late" Liza said, busy at work.

"Had to deal with a fussy pet last night" he replied cheerfully.

"Oh, really."

Liza Hawkeye. The Queen of Deadpan. The Queen of _Sarcastic_ Deadpan. He drifted past her, dared to reach out, dared to ruffle her hair affectionately.

Damn, he could almost feel her eye twitch. He snickered and she huffed.

"Captain, do you mind doing your work" Mustang's voice rang imperiously through the collection of workspaces. "If you don't start immediately, I'll hold you after hours for the time."

He remembered very distinctly the years when a threat like that would have made him linger and tease. But now, all he does, all he _can_ do, is flash a bitter grin and say"Yes, sir."


	10. Grown

**Grown**

"Um, Ed? I really enjoy your company, but seriously, kid. How long are you going to stick around"

Fullmetal looked up, vaguely surprised. "I didn't know that I was such a bother..."

"You're not. I was thinking more of your brother getting so massively worried that he'd do something aesthetically irreparable to my head."

"Aesthetically irreparable? That's a nice term."

"Thank you."

"All right, Jean, what's wrong? We both know that my brother's back with Winry –"

"Don't forget to invite me to the wedding, kiddo."

_That_ earned a grin. "Very funny. But it's not Al that's worrying you. Is it Roy"

"Very perceptive" Havoc said approvingly. "How'd you guess"

"I am grown up now. I can see things that I used to just pass off as stupid." Ed unfolded himself from a wicker chair and came to perch on Havoc's lap. "I know that you two were involved while I was still just a little kid." Warm amber eyes studied cool blue. "H'm. Roy's jealous, isn't he? He's angry that I'm camping out with you. Though... that could go two ways..."

"He's mad that I'm paying more attention to you than to him."

Ed _gaped._ "All right, I... that's just fucking _bizarre_. I thought you two separated a while ago."

"We did. Or I did. I moved on. But... he's –"

"Still clinging to the memory" Ed finished gently.

"Yeah. That sounds about right."

Ed's eyes began to sparkle mischievously. "You know..."

"What are you going to do now"

"I just have an... idea..." Ed purred.


	11. Gods

**Gods**

Ed threw the book away, nearly braining Jean in the process. "Damn, can't they find any original interpretations" he grumbled, more to himself than the exhausted blonde next to him.

"Maybe someone _can't _ come up with an original idea" Havoc mumbled, yawning. "Maybe they've all been done..."

"Nonsense" Ed snapped, one part annoyance and three parts bluster. "There's always new ways of looking at things"

Jean lifted his head tiredly and gave him stare for stare. "You honestly believe that, don't you"

Ed found that question ludicrous. "Of course I do! There's no way that something as complicated as this doesn't have more than one interpretation."

Havoc's hand groped for a bit, trying to seek out the thrown book by touch. Ed seriously considered pouncing on that hand and maybe playing with it, but he scratched that. A tired and grumpy Jean fresh out of the office was not a playful Jean.

"Aegyptian Gods and Goddesses" Jean read out. "Well, there you go. Not much you can interpret about a really messed-up family like that."

Ed stared. "Come again"

"For pity's sake, Ed, don't give me that look. You know full-well yourself. One god married his sister, inherited the throne from their father, got killed by his jealous brother, dismembered, his penis got eaten by a fish, his wife glued everything back together (except the missing member) and somehow conceived a child." The taller man flung the book back. "Chapter seven in a nutshell. What on earth could you interpret about that? It's just a radically different mindset than ours."

Ed gaped. "How did you know that"

"Because, dipshit, it's in the public library. Esoteric crap like that is popular reading for professors that want to screw with our minds. I wrote a paper on Ra the sun-god." His eyes lazily drifted shut. "And how he and Isis are essentially the same... figure... in myth..." Jean drifted off into a peaceful nap.

Ed grinned ruefully down at the book. "Well, there goes me being Isis and him being Ra" he joked.

-

Sorry for taking so long! Things have started picking up in school, and I completely lost track of this. **Gods** is my concession drabble, more of "Hey! I'm still alive, pay attention to me" than anything else. And I apologize for the crap ending. I lost my train of thought, so I had to come up with something quick.

I'm also sorry for the horrendous punctuation for previous chapters. That wasn't me: ff(dot)net was eating my marks.


	12. Generosity

**Generosity**

With great effort, Havoc scraped himself up from his desk, where he had apparently passed out sometime after lunch. He seemed to be passing out a lot lately...

He looked down at the messy bloom of paperwork on his desk longingly. It was such a comfy pillow, he shouldn't give it up willingly...

But he had been asleep for seven hours. He wasn't sure how Liza hadn't noticed the fact that he was oblivious to the world and paperwork, but she had ignored him. For five full hours. It was either a record or a miracle.

_Or maybe a little bit of both_, he thought, smiling. He pulled on his overcoat; autumn had crept in full-force, and the nights had gotten chilly. He had to drop by the butcher's and pastry shop for supper tonight, and that'd probably take him till after dark. Auntie Delilah loved to talk to him about how things were going with her daughter and the shop. He loved listening to her. Their conversations were a nice reprieve from his messy personal life.

Humming, he toddled virtuously out of the office, tidying up the detritus left by his coworkers.

"Jean?" Mustang's voice was thick and heavy. The man probably had just woken up from his own nap.

Havoc nodded over his shoulder. "Just cleaning up. I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Mustang nodded. "You look better for that nap you took this afternoon," he remarked, critically surveying the taller man. "I'm glad that I kept Hawkeye off your tail."


	13. Grace

**Grace**

"I'm sorry kid, the entire battalion's been mobilized."

"You're not going to get yourself killed, are you?" Ed watched Jean sag against the kitchen counter. He suddenly wished that he hadn't asked the question.

"Why does everyone ask us that?" the older man asked. "There's no way that we can guarantee that we'll survive what decides to happen to us. We're military. We know that death is a very real outcome. We've lived by the sword, and it only makes sense that we'd die by the sword, too." Tired blue eyes looked his way, but didn't seem to actually _see_ anything. "Just... don't ask me that again. I don't like lying about something this big." A wan imitation of the man's cocky grin flashed his way. "Especially to someone who's been so goddamned traumatized already."

"I'm not made out of glass," Ed grumbled.

"No, but even a diamond has a breaking point. The trick of staying alive and sane is to never forget that there _is_ a breaking point, and that it can be reached so very, very easily." Havoc glanced up at the clock. "I don't want you to lose it too soon," he said. The tall man pulled on the heavy wool military jacked and stooped to briefly kiss Ed's cheek. "Just go home and hang out with Al and Winry until I get back, okay? It's not healthy to be stuck in a bachelor's apartment indefinitely. "

Ed stuck out his tongue impishly, hoping that it hid his nervousness and worry. "You've done if for years!"

"Yeah, well, I've had to do it. You've always been with someone, even if it was just a dog. Besides, I'm sure Al would adore seeing you again." He disappeared out the door with a casual wave of a hand.

Ed ran to the window and watched the scrunched-up blonde hurry down the walk. As much as he felt odd for admitting it, he really... _liked_ the man. He would miss Jean. A lot.


	14. Grace II

**Grace**

_"... Major Hawkeye was also injured in the incident, along with most of her battalion staff. Total casualties come up to three dead, twenty critically wounded, and seven walking wounded..."_

Ed's foot tapped dully in the antiseptic white of the hospital. His nerves grated like steel wool – he _hated_ waiting to see if someone he cared about would be okay.

A dark blue uniform sat next to him. _Don't care, don't care..._ White gloves invaded his field of vision, nudging his own gloves out of the way to reveal the title of the heavy book on his lap. _World of don't care..._

"_Magic Bullet Marksman_?" the uniform asked, slight amusement in its voice.

"I just thought Havoc would like something to read when he woke up," Ed replied, chilly and noncommittal. "So I brought his favorite –"

"Book, yes. I know. I gave that to him for his birthday some time ago."

"Major Elric, you may see the patient now."

Ed got up hastily, not wanting to hang around a place contaminated with the scent of sandalwood and cloves.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Yes, I know, it's the second author's note I have. Sometimes you need these things. Anyway, someone asked me as one point, "What's the distinction between walking and critically wounded?"

Simple. Walking wounded is just that; the injury sustained isn't enough to keep you off the lines. Something that one can just slap a dressing on and it'll be okay until one's able to head back to an aid station. Critically wounded (in my view) is when one has to be rushed back to an aid station for treatment and the soldier is unable to keep fighting.

_Magic Bullet Marksman_ is actually an opera. I can't remember the German name, but I thought that it would be an appropriate faerie tale for Havoc to like.


	15. Grace III

**Grace**

"Major Hawkeye is still in surgery," the doctor said calmly. "The shrapnel is easy to remove, and there isn't any internal damage besides a few broken bones. No concussion, no damaged internal organs. There's slight bruising, but nothing that can't be fixed with a few weeks of rest."

"... and?"

The doctor blinked. "Oh. Right. Captain Havoc... well, to be frank, I'm afraid he rather caught the short end of the stick. Broken jaw, bad burns along his right side, shrapnel embedded in the right side, some of it in tricky spots... looks like the poor man was smack inside the immediate blast radius. Lucky for him, though, one of the dead men acted as a sort of poor-man's shield, keeping him from the absolute worst. God's saving grace, that."

Mustang grunted in annoyance at the last comment. "Does Intelligence have any clue as to what occurred?"

The doctor shrugged. "Damned if I knew. I'm just in Medical."


	16. Grace IV

**Given**

"You don't have to get so tense every time I close my eyes," Jean said tartly, head still where he had let it drop some time ago.

Ed flinched guiltily. "I know that... just that you look so _pale_ and _ill_, it makes me think that you're... not going to wake up again."

"Ed, that's what happens. It can take months, even years, for an older body to recover from severe trauma."

"You're only thirty-four!"

"And I'm falling apart. There's a damn good reason that the military recruits younger people – they heal faster and better than someone as old as me. Why do you think that Mustang doesn't do field work anymore?"

"That's beside the point," Ed retorted. He slid a pillow between the other man's head and the back of the overstuffed armchair that Jean had collapsed into as soon as the nurse had dragged him back. "Why the hell did they even let you out of the hospital so soon? It's only been a month!"

"Another arson attempt at a southern aid-station. They needed the space too badly to keep an outpatient."

"Your leg got turned into hamburger! They could at least have waited for it to heal a little more!"

"I'm fine, Ed. It wasn't so bad that they had to amputate it. That means that it'll heal, whether I'm in an hospital or not."

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't always mean that it'll knit properly. There's tons of automail users who got their limbs because doctors pulled shit like this."

Jean waved his good hand tiredly. "If that happens, I'll ask Pinako and Winry to help out. I'm sure they wouldn't mind fitting something on me."

"Yeah," Ed said, muffling himself into Jean's shoulder. "But _I_ would."


	17. Grace V

**Grace**

"Dammit Ed, I don't need a nursemaid!" Havoc sat petulantly in his overstuffed armchair (out of which he hardly ever moved anymore). "I may be injured, but I'm _ not_ helpless."

He scowled at the grin the younger man was tossing his way. He nearly crossed his arms grouchily across his chest before he realized: _Oh. Right. Right arm in a sling and hurting like... well... a bitch._

"Don't move, you lughead! You're going to hurt yourself even more, and then Mustang, he's going to have both my hide and yours for straining yourself!"

Havoc's eyebrow lifted when he caught the curious little hitch in Ed's diatribe. "What brought him up?"

"I... er... oh, hell, I probably should have told you this some time ago. I've been seeing him. Not like that!" he added hastily. "He told me to report in to him on your health. He's not too happy with the state of your affairs, and quite frankly, neither am I."

Havoc let his eyelids droop to half-mast. "M'm. Nice to know that you're pissed at me over something I can't control."

"Dammit, Jean! That's not what I meant! I'm worried about you... we're both worried about you." A pair of warm and cold hands gently cradled his left hand. "We don't want to risk losing you. If you got automail, then... you wouldn't be you anymore. You'd be... almost-but-not-quite you. I don't want to lose you when I've never really _had_ you."

He closed his eyes all the way. "Is that what this is about?"

"No. I don't think so. I think it's about what you need..."


	18. Grace VI

**Grace**

Havoc had finally been let back to work, armed with light duty papers and emphatic orders to "Take it _easy_, dammit!"

His limp was still fairly bad, but he had gained some use of his right arm. Not too much, but just enough to be able to push a pen across paper in an approximation of his signature. It hurt like hell and his only painkillers were aspirin and caffeine.

A pale hand reached over his shoulder to pluck the pen from his grasp. "Idiot captain, I thought we told you to take it bloody well easy," Mustang scolded. "You're just going to hurt yourself even more."

"I"m not made out of glass, sir."

"I know that. But Major Hawkeye is still on medical leave, and she's nowhere near as... incapa–"

"Just say crippled," Havoc said bitterly. "That's what everyone says anymore."

"You think I don't know that?" Mustang asked gently. He touched his eyepatch. "Jean, I know exactly what you're going through. Admittedly, I wasn't nearly as badly... er... damaged like you, but it was still enough." Fingers brushed against his cheek, over an invisible scar beneath his right eye.

Havoc felt ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, sir... I forgot... I shouldn't have..."

"It's all right, Jean. I may have lost an eye, but you can barely do anything. Your limp is so bad that... the doctors have suggested amputation and substituting for automail. They say that a large portion of your muscle was severed in the explosion and that there's a good chance that it'll never heal properly."

"I don't care if I have a limp for the rest of my life, I'm _not_ getting automail!"

"I admire your determination. But you have to realize that the military will get rid of you when it can't get anything else out of you..."

"I know."

He wasn't sure if that wistful smile was because of his sheer bull-headedness or because of something else. "I know. I just don't want to lose you again..."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Omigosh! It's finally the last of the 'Grace' sub-plot! I'll be getting on with the rest of the story once the Quarter of Hell lessens at school and OMEA competition is over. (which is this Saturday, so expect something... sometime soon... hopefully) I still have two term papers to finish, so don't expect much in the way of updates. I'm trying. I really am.


	19. Green

**Green**

"Come on, squirt, move it!"

"There's no call for you to be abusive," Mustang said mildly, decending the stairs to the training greens.

"I'm not abusive, I'm truthful. Ed's out of shape – he's been lounging around my apartment for the last few months, eating my food and reading my books." Havoc shoved a stopwatch under Mustang's nose. "Look at it! He used to be able to run a six-minute mile and his time's nearly doubled!"

Mustang took the device, good eye squinting slightly. "Jean, last time I checked, being able to run a ten-minute mile wasn't slacking."

"It is if you're in the military," Havoc said with asperity. "Regulations state that a man has to run a six-minute mile, and a woman has to run an eight minute mile. Ergo, Ed is a lazy slug."

"Ergo?"

"Sod off."

"I find this slightly hypocritical of you, Jean. You can't very well run the poor boy to his limits when you yourself can hardly _walk_ a mile without collapsing."

"Thank you for reminding me yet again, Mustang."

Havoc got a tiny flare of satisfaction at seeing the smaller man flinch. "I'm sorry," Mustang mumbled.

"Don't worry. Once everything's fully healed, I'll be right there next to him."


	20. Gone

**Gone**

"You shouldn't be doing spring cleaning!" Ed squawked, hovering anxiously. "Your arm isn't _nearly_ strong enough to carry some of this shit!"

Havoc plopped down onto the bed, eyeing the fretting young man. "Well, then you're just going to have to help me," he remarked, lighting a cigarette. "Since I'm _obviously_ too weak to carry anything..."

"Lazy bum," Ed growled, apparently ignoring what he had said earlier.

"Think of it as weight training. That way if and when you see your teacher, she won't try to kick your ass and make you do something that'll probably kill you. I'm being kind to you." The young man growled something unprintable. He just smiled sweetly. "When you walked in that door the first time, you pretty much gave yourself up for anything that might happen. I think this goes under the 'anything' clause, don't you?"

He watched curiously as Ed's motion slowly ground to a halt. "Well, it's not quite what I had imagined to be an 'anything'," the young man admitted. "I was thinking of something a little more... dramatic."

He smiled to himself, getting up and collecting a few scattered books. "Don't look like that, kid. I'm not going to even ask. It's just enough that I have company nowadays."

The pile of books tottered precariously. Havoc had to go through all sorts of weird contortions to keep the damn things on top of one another.

"Why couldn't you just put a hand on them?" Ed asked, skating by with a box of old clothing.

"You sure you want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Havoc shrugged. "All right. Just don't complain." He managed to ease the books out of the crook of his left arm and drew the sleeve covering his right arm up.

Ed's mouth hung open. "For the love of God man, I don't think that's supposed to happen!"

"Shut up, kid. You're complaining."

Ed noticed his strained grin. "I'm sorry, Jean. Just... that looks pretty nasty. Are you sure it's not infected?"

"One hell of a lingering infection. I've been out for a month, and it's been two months since I got it." He gave a lopsided shrug. "It'll heal."


	21. Gloved

**Gloved**

Roy had no illusions why his Captain was now wearing pristine white army-issue gloves. He also had no illusions as to why Jean was also wearing crisp white dress shirts instead of the ratty black tee-shirts that he used to wear under his uniform. He'd like to think that his tumble-headed man was taking more pride in being Military, but he knew... that there were other reasons.

He watched, brows furrowed, when his Captain limped down the hallway. The only thing that he couldn't figure out was _why_. No, he knew why. Maybe the question was _how_.

Jean wasn't self-conscious by nature. He rather suspected the man to be pathologically incapable of caring about fashion or looking nice. Jean's motto was 'Whatever Works'. It was a pretty good motto for a rough-and-tumble soldier that had more use for common sense than pretty notions of chivalry. So... who (and how, and maybe even what) convinced him to change his style so dramatically?

The shirt may have just been an adjustment for comfort's sake. The blue wool was scratchy and starchy at best, and it had to be irritating to raw skin.

Morbidly curious, he took Jean's hand one day (after hours, so as not to scandalize the _entire_ staff) and gently drew off the glove. A rather weak and damaged-looking hand lay limply in his.

_It'll fix soon_, Jean told him cheerfully, trying to drag his hand back.

And things just went downhill from there.


	22. Good

**Good**

"How do you feel?"

"Better. I'm not completely awake, but I'm –" Havoc took a small pause to yawn cavernously "– functional. Coffee?"

"With milk and sugar. I'll be damned before I give you straight, hot coffee."

"All right, so I do have a particularly bizarre aversion to hot objects, but you didn't have to do that."

"Not bizarre at all. It's a psychosomatic reaction. I'd be worried if you _didn't_ have it. Hell, even _Hawkeye_ has an aversion to sharp, pointy objects and things that generate intense and/or focused heat." Roy set down the mug and began to gently rub his shoulders, fingers glossing over the scars. "I think part of the problem here is that you're so tense..."

"Huh?"

"You've been favoring this arm. You're tense from stress and exhaustion." He pressed a thumb into the shoulder muscle and Havoc yelped. "See? Now, I bet that if a gave you an absolutely mind-blowing backrub, you'd be better."

"I'm not even going to _comment_ on that one... lucky for you that Ed decided to go visit Winry and Al, otherwise I would have been mopping up blood last night."

"As it is, you're going to be washing the sheets..."

Havoc turned bright red. "Sod off. Just... sod off."

"M'm... no. You have any idea how much I've missed you?"

"Like someone misses a boil on their ass, I'm sure."

Roy cuffed him affectionately across the back of the head. "Don't sell yourself short. Hell, even Ed..."

"Ed what?"

"Nevermind. Drink your coffee and sit still for a bit."


	23. Gleam

**Gleam**

Jean lay bonelessly across the rumpled sheets, rubbing the palm of his right hand. Roy smiled at the sight – he had forgotten how damnably _adorable_ the man was.

"You're staring," Jean said lazily.

"Am not!" he retorted.

"Are too. Make yourself useful and get me some coffee."

"Presumptuous...!"

"Go on." Jean rolled over and gave Roy the full benefit of his Class One Smile. The one that he knew full-well was Jean's ticket to... aw, _hell_.

"Do I have to?" He was perfectly aware that he was whining now, but he didn't give a damn.

"You'd probably better be dressed, too. Ed's coming home soon. It'll be messy if he–"

Roy silenced him with a kiss. "You never know, he may want to join."

"That hurts."

He backed up hastily, realizing that he had been leaning on Jean's injuries. "Those really should be healed by now, Jean. They did an analysis on –"

"I know, I know," the blonde said, smiling. "I'm just slow to heal sometimes. Hawkeye's still got some healing to do, too. Things like these don't heal quickly."

"Two months, Jean. _Two months_!"

"And I'm sure that you've been drooling over him for the duration of those months," Ed's voice said dryly from the doorway. "What the hell are you doing to him, you pervert?"

"Since when has Ed had keys!" Roy demanded from Jean, slightly hurt.

"Ever since you dumped him on my lap."

Ed stalked over, not too happy about the turn of events. A manic light gleamed red in his eyes. "Shove off, Mustang."

"No."

"Yes." Ed bent over and landed a very possessive kiss on the older blonde's lips. Kisses brushed down his neck and over his shoulder, where a tongue began to smooth over the angry red scars. It all amounted to one sentiment: _mine_.


	24. Granted

**Granted**

"Considering he just got kicked out of _my_ apartment by a sodding twenty-year-old, I'm surprised that he hasn't ordered both our heads on separate silver platters."

"Yeah, the three-day lapse is a little disturbing," Ed admitted, flipping a pancake. "Knowing him, he's probably fantasizing on punishing us and then –" A (thankfully empty) saltcellar pinged off his metal arm.

"Shut up kid. Even if we're both thinking it, I don't want it said out loud."

"Well, you can't just ignore that –"

"I can and will!" Even on his day off, Jean was grumpy before he got his required three cups of coffee. "Coffee done yet?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "My god, why don't you just get periodic caffeine IV shots?"

"Then you'd have a hyper nicotine addict chain-smoking and pulling awful pranks." At his skeptical look, Jean added, "Well, worse than usual."

Ed flipped the last pancake onto the plate. "You're not that bad."

"I'm bad enough."

"Hmph." Ed brought the plate over to the table. He smacked Jean's hand away. "Nuh-uh. I'm feeding you." He rolled up a pancake and stuck it in the older man's mouth. "Can't trust you to eat healthy on your own."

Blue eyes glared threateningly, but Ed just smirked. He straddled Jean's legs, facing him. "Come, now. No one's here, so you won't get embarrassed for a 'sodding twenty-year-old' spoon-feeding you."

Jean muttered something that sounded suspiciously rude.

"No, I won't get off. I'm making sure that you eat every single bite I feed you." He flashed an impish grin as he leaned closer, nuzzling the other's ear. "M'hm... haven't you noticed that I _always_ manage to get what I want?" He pressed a gentle kiss to Jean's temple. "And that includes you, Captain." He drifted down the frozen man's neck. "And it includes me... making sure that you get a good rest after breakfast." Teeth lightly clamped onto Jean's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure this goes under the 'anything' clause of my lease, don't you?"


	25. Guns

**Gun**

"Everyone's been acting so weird lately," Havoc complained, checking the barrel of his rifle for pits and corrosion. "Is there something I don't know about in Central's water supply?"

"Highly unlikely," Hawkeye said, cleaning her pistol. "General Mustang and Major Elric don't drink water that often, and you yourself seem to be unaffected."

"The only water Ed drinks is what I put in the coffee," Havoc grumbled. "It's driving me nuts – he drinks even more coffee than _I_ do, if that's even possible."

"Are you sure you can handle the recoil of that thing?"

"I'm pretty sure. I don't think it'll be a problem."

"Just checking." After a while, she asked, "What exactly is going on with you and Major Elric?"

"Friends and roommates. I feed him, he does the housework, it's all good."

Hawkeye snorted. "That's not what the gossip says..."

"Since when have you ever listened to gossip? You know that the secretary pool is none-too-reliable, especially when it comes down to things like this."

"I started listening ever since a certain little blonde boy said that his elder brother fancied a certain blonde chain-smoker."

"I am _not_ a chain-smoker, dammit! Half a pack a day isn't chain-smoking, and I'm cutting down because Ed complains."

Hawkeye got that peculiarly triumphant look that she sometimes had when things went her way. "I'm glad to see that someone can finally pound it into your skull that smoking is bad for your health."

"Can it, Hawkeye."


	26. Glance

**Glance**

"You feeling okay?"

"I'm _fine_," Havoc said tartly. "A little bit of exercise is not going to kill me! I _was_ injured, and now I'm getting better."

"I can't help it if I worry about you. You looked like death warmed up for a good long period of time after you got home."

"Hmph." They made it to the men's locker room. "You don't have to hover, Ed. I'm not going to pass out."

"How can I be sure?" the young man argued.

"I hurt my arm and my leg! There wasn't any concussion, and I seriously doubt that the blood loss of three or so months past is going to affect me in any way, shape or form!"

Ed flinched at that. "I'm allowed to be worried, aren't I?" he muttered. "I don't like losing people I care for, you know."

Havoc sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't like being fussed over." He peeled out of his tee-shirt, throwing it in a handy bag. "I'm independent and annoying by nature."

"You're not that bad," Ed protested, grinning. "You can't be worse than me, anyway."

"Try me." Havoc shook his head and raked his hair back. The scars on his arms were fading, and he was almost up to full strength. "I bet I could give you a run for your money..."

He completely missed the glance Ed shot his way, hot and hungry, golden and longing.


	27. Game

**Game**

"I assume you are aware of the increasing tension between Fullmetal and myself."

_Oh, great, what now_? "I'm aware, yes. I don't particularly care, though."

That seemed to throw the other man off. "Hasn't Fullmetal already acted upon his apparent fondness for you?"

"None of your damn business, Mustang."

"Yes, it is my business, Captain. It is my duty to enforce military rules and regulations. Fraternization –"

"Has absolutely nothing to do with it. Elric isn't military and you know it. He's a State Alchemist –"

"And therefore under my jurisdiction."

"But he's not military. Only in cases of emergency mobilization (which are highly unlikely in this day and age) will he be given an uniform and told to kill. Therefore, all military regulations are null and void... as I'm sure you know, General."

If Mustang was at all uncomfortable with that statement, he did a marvelous job of hiding it. "So you admit that you have relations of an intimate nature with the young man?"

"I'm admitting nothing," Havoc said tartly. "There's nothing to admit.

"How can you be so sure? You can't possibly –"

"He's been rooming with me, yes, but that means absolutely nothing. Contrary to popular belief, I _don't_ sleep with anything that rooms with me."

"I never said that," Mustang protested, on the defensive. "I never even intimated that!"

"Then what is this about? I want to go home and get some sleep."


	28. Give

**Give**

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that Mustang was jealous," Jean commented from the bathroom.

"What makes you say that?"

"He called me in today after work and read me the riot act."

"What's his problem now?"

"Off a purely irrational basis, I'd say that it's the fact that you're still currently basically living with me is irritates him to no end."

Ed laughed at that. "In that case, I'll stay forever. Pissing that man off is one of my favorite jobs."

There was a skeptical pause. "And you're dragging me into it?"

"Of course, you moron. It takes two to tango, you know."

"All the same, I'd rather not do anything that would piss him off _too_ much. He is my boss, after all."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Ed asked rhetorically. "It's not like the man's willing to transfer you or anything..."

Jean exited the bathroom, adjusting his pyjama bottoms. "I know. The man's going to make damn well good and sure that I can't go anywhere he can't keep an eye on me."

Ed leaned back against the couch, enjoying the view. "Why not? You're a big boy now, and you're fully capable of taking care of yourself."

"Tell _him_ that," Jean retorted. He raked back the soaked fluff of his bangs. "Sometimes I think that man is too overprotective for his own good."

"He can't help being in love," Ed said mischievously, studying the intricate web of scars on Jean's right side.

"Don't you start saying that, too," the taller said warningly. "Even _Fury_ is teasing me about that, and it's driving me nuts."

Ed grinned impishly. Well, if so many people are saying it, then it must be true," he teased. A towel smacked into his face.

"Shut up. I'd like to stay in denial, thanks much."

"What is with you and your denial?" He draped the towel around Jean's shoulders. His flesh hand trailed a long scar across Jean's stomach.

"It's so comfortable once you wear off the rough bits." Jean scraped his wet hair back again. "Seriously? There's no reason for me to really care anymore."

"Maybe you should," he suggested lightly. He moved his hands to cup Jean's face. "Please?"

"No." The taller man tried to push him away.

This time, Ed refused to be thwarted. "Not now, Jean. This time, I'm going to get what I want. You're _not_ going to stop me again." He pulled, and Jean came.


	29. Groundwork

**Groundwork**

Havoc woke up to the continuous _tink-tink_ of cheap metal against high-quality steel. He growled sleepily and turned over, dragging the blankets up over his head in a cocoon. Something slid around his neck and the _tink-tink _resumed.

"Nnnyergh... g'way, is still night..."

"You're just like a big, grumpy teddy bear," Ed's voice teased from on high. "Thanks for reminding me why I like you so much." The madding _tink-tink_ continued.

_Oh, **fuck**. _"Dear God in Heaven, you mean that it _wasn_'_t_ a bad dream!" He tried to scramble somewhere _other_ than where he was at that moment, but a quick haul from Ed firmly stopped that.

"Will you calm down? You act like you were a virgin," Ed nearly-snapped, pulling harder on the chain Havoc wore around his neck.

Havoc subsided at that, rubbing his throat. "Will you please let go of me?"

"No. You may be Roy's plaything, but you belong to me now, Jean." In a slightly mocking voice, Ed began to read his dogtags. "Jean Havoc, Captain, 3rd Infantry Division, number 40532. Jean Havoc, number 40532, sniper." The young man rubbed the two tags together between his automail fingers. "A sniper? I never would have guessed..." Ed pulled him closer with the chain and lightly bit the curve of his neck and shoulder.

"...I'm going to die of shame and a certain General who has an affinity with charcoal... sleeping with a man fourteen years my junior! What was I –"

"Calm down," Ed said again, gently. "It's not your fault. I always get what I want, no matter what I have to do. I'm stubborn like that. And if that idiot General thinks it's your fault, I'll convince him otherwise..."

"_Damn_."

"You know, one could almost assume that you're ashamed."

"Of course I am! I don't know what's going on anymore... you and Mustang are fighting with each other over me, and I don't..." he choked on his words.

"You're worth fighting for. I like you a lot, Jean."

"Please, if you're going to get friendship and sex screwed up, don't do it on my account."

"You think this is only about sex?"

"Well, you haven't really disabused me of that idea..."


	30. Grouch

**Grouch**

"What's wrong?"

"General bad day. It started _way_ too early, I woke up on the _complete_ wrong side of the bed, and to top it all off, I fully expect the world to end in T minus fifty minutes max."

"Damn, you're grumpy. Girlfriend dump you or something?"

"I only wish, man. I only wish."

Farman decided in a few seconds of rapid thought that Havoc needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. To hell with decaf. "Well, today's been slow, so just sit tight and relax. I'll get you some coffee–"

"Who made it?"

"Mustang."

"All right then."

"And then maybe you can talk about what's bugging you?"

Havoc snorted. "Where will I even _begin_ to expound on my woes?"

"At least you're beginning to sound a little like your old self."

"Small blessing, I know."

Farman laughed and sauntered off. Havoc's grin slowly faded. The not-quite-argument with Ed that morning had left him emotionally drained and exhausted. He still wasn't entirely sure where Ed got off in all of this. To say that he was confused would be the Understatement of the Year.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he groaned, dropping his head down onto the polished wood surface. Handy things, desks.

"A heap of trouble, I would assume," Mustang said dryly from the doorway.

"... the hell are you doing here?"

"He followed me," Farman volunteered from behind the alchemist.

"Followed? More like you followed him," Havoc quipped, not very happy with the newest turn of not-so-good events. "You're getting pushy, General."

"Not nearly as pushy as I have been or could be," he was reminded smoothly.

"Sod off. I'm not in the mood."

"You were in the mood for Fullmetal."

Havoc's head snapped up, blue eyes icy. "There was a line, Mustang. I think you've just crossed it. I'd thank you to get the fuck out of the room."


	31. Gift

**Gift**

"They're all crazy!" Havoc roared at the top of his lungs, nearly flooring poor Liza. "Mustang's getting clingy and damn near _offensive_, and Elric's turned hormonal and sex-obsessed!"

"Poor thing," she said gently. "Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah. I called Ed earlier and told hi that I'd be working late, but I can't stand Mustang just _hovering_ there."

"Well, don't just stand there on my doorstep, come in. Honestly, you when you're frazzled... You know where the shower is, and I think there's a pair of pyjamas in my closet for you."

"Thanks, Liza." He dropped an affectionate kiss onto the top of her head. "You're a lifesaver."

She pushed him towards the bathroom. "Go on, you big baby. You can make yourself comfortable. I'm going to get Xingian takeout."

"Gotcha."

Time passed. Xingian carryout boxes littered the low coffetable, joined by several pairs of mismatched chopsticks.

Havoc lay across the couch, head comfortably pillowed in Liza's lap. The woman's fingers lazily stroked over his forehead and through his hair. "Feeling better now?"

"Marginally. It's nice to just relax without being in complete fear of someone jumping me or getting on my ass about something."

Liza snickered in a most un-Hawkeye-ish manner. "Poor thing. Your life has been nothing but trial after tribulation, hasn't it?"

"Ah, I always have your loving support, don't I?"

"Of course." She reached over him to grab a glass of milk. "That's what I'm here for."


	32. Glint

**Glint**

"Don't you _dare_ ask me where I've been, squirt, otherwise I just might have to throw you out." Havoc threw his uniform jacket onto the couch right next to where Ed was sitting.

Ed jumped guiltily. "All right," he said, totally subdued. "I'm sorry for making you mad..."

"I'm not mad," Havoc said, perching on the arm of a chair. "I'm frustrated, confused, and unhappy. But not mad."

Ed curled around Havoc's jacket like it was some lost toy newly found. Havoc couldn't help but think that the boy looked more like a chastised puppy than a fully competent, twenty-year-old alchemist. "I'm sorry... I just wanted you so bad... I wanted you to be _mine_ and no one else's. Mustang's had you for years..."

"Remember I told you not to get friendship and sex mixed up? That's what happened between me and Mustang. Except in that case it was superior-subordinate affection gone totally wrong." He rested his chin on his fist. "We're too different, all three of us. I'm a dog, I'm pretty much incapable of doing something for myself at this point. Mustang's the alpha. He only does what's good for the pack, and I've always had a feeling that he was sleeping with me for some obscure reason that I can't figure out."

"Can't you make your own choices?"

"I did. I am. In some cases. Mustang and I separated for mutual reasons. I'm just not like him. It never would have worked."

"It worked for years."

"I know, and I honestly can't think of a reason why it did." He sighed. "Maybe it was just us deluding ourselves into believing that we needed one another."

"Everyone needs someone."

"I know that. I'm just not the one that you or Mustang need. You're alchemists. I'm a farmboy. There's something mutually incompatible with that." Seeing the crestfallen look on Ed's face, Havoc continued, "I'll be here if you need anything. I'll be your elder brother if you need me to. Heck, I'll even try being your father if that's what you truly need. But I just can't be your lover. It won't work that way anymore."

Ed smiled, sniffling slightly into his jacket. "Oh, well. It was a good fantasy while it lasted.

"I think I can agree with that..."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Gah! It's another one of these things. But first, apologies and thank-you's! (advanced apology for the length)

sweatdrops- WOW. Roy's personality's done a total 180 since the debut of _Sapphire and Onyx_ (recommended reading if you haven't already). I apologize profusely for anyone out there reading this who's a Roy/Ed fan. I was kinda basing their reactions on a conversation that I had with a friend.

Ed is a young man now, with a less-than-normal childhood. He's always gotten what he's wanted (even if it was in a supremely twisted way). He's worked hard for it, but now that he's back in Amestris and Al's restored, he feels like he's entitled to what he wants, no questions asked. He sees the older man almost as a brother, but there's a sexual appetite that needs to be sated. Havoc has been understanding (even if a bit gruff) in the past, and Ed feels that the man would understand now. The only problem is that Ed used force at a time when Havoc was feeling very insecure about things: he'd just gotten over some very severe trauma and Mustang hadn't been helping matters any. Mustang... was feeling threatened by the boy. He still has feelings for Havoc, and he views the encroachment of the boy as almost a challenge; the young male challenging the alpha male for territory and mating rights. Havoc... he's just unhappy about the whole mess. He likes Ed a lot, he likes Mustang a lot, but rationally he knows that he'd be better off with Miss Hawkeye.

Who will he end up with? We don't know...

Thanks to everyone who's left a comment since I started – you've really been there to keep me going.

**Torii**, if you hadn't commented every time I'd posted, I'd probably still be on the third chapter.

**Kaori**, I'm glad that I made one of my favorite non-cannon pairings so appealing to you! (I hope you're still reading, you know...)

**sketchyheart**, keep reviewing! I like hearing from you, 'specially since you wrote one of my favorite Roy/Havoc fics... -sparkly eyes- More?

**Jade Pen** What happened? I miss seeing your reviews when my little mail icon starts jumping... -sniffle-

I've gotten 27 out of 36 done (not counting the Grace mini-arc), and your reviews will just keep encouraging me to keep going!


	33. Glue

**Glue**

Liza's hand slipped through his. "You seem to be in a better mood," she commented quietly.

Havoc wasn't surprised. Liza was one of the most observant people he'd known in his life, and seeing her at the sweet shop was a common occurrence. "Actually yeah. I finally got up the nerve to talk to Ed about what was happening. He's gone to Risenbul for a week or two to decide what he wants."

"I wish I'd known that. I'd have told him to tell Winry 'hello'."

"Already got that covered. Pinako has a nice, long chatty letter from me, telling her what's going on and giving salutations from the gang."

She smiled sidelong at him. "I hope you left out some of the more sordid bits of the affair."

"Trust me, I'm too goddamn embarrassed to even _think_ about it, much less write it. Oooh. Chocolate torte..."

Liza chucked slightly, barely squeezing his hand. "Have I ever told you that you have a one-track mind?"

"Multiple times." He glanced around. "Well, dang. Nothing I want here..."

"What about the torte?"

"Too much sugar. I'm trying to cut down on sugar and caffeine. A cheesecake would have been nice..."

Trying to be noncommittal, Liza said, "I think I may have one in my kitchen. Want to come over and share it?"

Havoc's arm snaked around her shoulder. "Wonderful woman. You're the one thing keeping my sanity together, you know that?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Just a last-minute update because I may not be able to update this weekend. And no, I'm not quite done yet, sketchyheart. Almost, but not quite. I still have to resolve the Mustang issue, don't I? (and when you sketch that, you have _got_ to email me a copy!)


	34. Garments

**Garments**

"You look nice," Liza commented behind her (yes, _her_) Jean.

"Of course I would," the tall man retorted. "You've just been promoted and we're at a base-wide celebration and general congratulation party. You know that everyone on the base loves you, even if they're scared spitless of you."

"Except for the National Alchemists," She commented, studying the pretty bubbles in her glass. Champagne always provided hours of cheap entertainment – until it went flat.

"What about them?"

"They're not here. None of them."

Jean opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. She was curious to hear what he would have spat out, but acknowledged the fact that saying anything disparaging could have cost him dear. The alchemists actually _employed_ in the military were known to be vindictive, at best.

At worst, they could make a soldier's life a living hell.

"Actually, I wouldn't quite say that," Jean said easily, nodding over her shoulders. "Someone did show –"

"Colonel Hawkeye!" Major Alexander Louis Armstrong _gushed,_ bearing down on the two soldiers. "How very glad I am to see your valiant service repaid with a promotion and a raise!"

Jean tried heroically to strangle down a growing shout of hilarity. Hawkeye bit her lip and turned. And was _blinded_.

Really, bright, _screaming_ orange tuxedoes should be outlawed, even if they nicely offset the brighter-than-normal pink sparkles.

"Oh, ow," Jean murmured, trying not to gag and laugh at the same time. "I'm either putting this down to the champagne, or the fact that he's actually sparkling..."


	35. Great

**... _great_**

"Swear to _God_, that tux made my eyes bleed," Breda grumped on Monday. Havoc laughed.

"Sparkles strikes again with a neon-orange suit. Sounds like the title of a bad thriller," Farman commented.

"You're lucky, you were on the other side of the room," Fury retorted. The mild-mannered youngster had gotten quite sour after being enveloped in an over-enthusiastic hug by the orange-clad major. He was _still_ rubbing at his eyes.

"Gee, here I was, hoping I was drunk," Havoc said, cheerfully stubbing out a cigarette. "Guess not."

"If you were drunk, I'd bet that it would have hurt even more," Fury grumbled sourly.

"Now just imagine if you were up close and personal _and_ drunk."

"That'd be enough to turn me sober and make me stop drinking altogether."

Breda looked around. "Where's Hawkeye?"

"On leave." The three older men looked at each other. Scary, manic grins spread across their faces.

Cain Fury twigged almost immediately onto the fact that they were planning something evil. With a capital 'E' and enthusiastically pounded typewriter keys. He began to back away.

"I'm not too out-of-practice," Havoc said, stretching. "Granted, it's been a while, but I can probably pull off a few good ones..."

"I think I have some glue in my desk drawer," Breda added helpfully, trying to look innocent.

_Yes, Cain my boy, now would be a good time to grab a phone and dial the... wait, these goons are the ones that answer! ARGH_.

Havoc's eyes lidded dangerously. "Rubber bands?"

"Check."

"Tape?"

"Of course."

"A deck of cards?"

"Yup."

"And a balloon?"

"For some reason, yes."


	36. Grapes

**Grapes**

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!"

The three miscreants tried hard not to let a single giggle slip out. Fury just started saying his prayers, hoping that death would be quick.

Havoc thought a rib would break from not-laughing.

"WHO THE FUCKING HELL _DID_ THIS! WHAT'S WITH THE FUCKING **_GRAPES_**!"

"That's three time's he's said 'fuck' or a variant thereof," Farman whispered clinically.

"I _don't_ think that's a cause for celebration," Fury hissed. "In fact –"

"Heads up, troops," Havoc interrupted. "General's coming."

And oh, it was a sight to see! Covered in pulp, seeds, and rather odd-looking stains, General Roy Mustang stomped out of his office, beautifully and gloriously angry. It almost made Havoc regret leaving him.

Almost.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!" the normally-composed General screamed.

Ouch. Nearly broke the sonic barrier, there.

Blue eyes twinkled disarmingly. "What was what, sir?"

Cain had to hand it to him, he was good at pranks. Though, the powdered glue in the sink was going a little too far...

"Four," Farman muttered inaudibly.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE _GRAPES_ DOING IN MY OFFICE!"

"Handkerchief?"

Havoc ran from the office, laughing maniacally, followed by a pissed-as-hell Mustang and a wave of fire.

a/n: I'm leaving the details of the actual prank up to you guys... ;;


	37. Giggle

**Giggle**

"Do I even want to know?" Hawkeye asked as soon as she got back to the office.

"In the interests of self preservation, hell no."

"What happened?"

"Prank war. You were out and the rest of us were bored, so we –"

Hawkeye sniffed. "Grapes?"

"Don't ask. Mustang already tried to roast me, then tried to courtmarshal me. Odd how he went straight for me and ignored the other two..."

"Well, you _do_ have a rather large reputation for being annoying and sneaky."

"Oh, now that hurt," Jean said, injured. He tapped the ash off his cigarette. "I'm not annoying."

She snorted her opinion of that. "Then what are you? An incorrigible prankster?"

"Yeah, sounds about right." Jean stretched languidly, rubbing at the bandages on his arm. "But we did pull off a few good ones..."

"And the general is going to be annoyed for how many weeks?"

"Um... I'm guessing four or five." The man stole a glance at her. "Are you mad?"

"No-o. I mean, I probably should be, but right now, I just don't care." She shot a smile at him. "Ask me again later."


	38. Given

**Given**

"Well, there goes my plans for a peaceful retirement," Havoc commented to the world in general.

"What's wrong?" Ed reached up to grab the letter in Havoc's hands.

"Dad's sick." He jerked the missive easily out of the teensy alchemist's reach. "They're not sure what he has, but they're pretty sure that he's going to die roundabout Yuletide. Mom and Emily want me to resign and go back to manage the farm."

"Farm?"

"My family runs a stud farm a few hours east of Central. We raise steeplechasers."

"What... like that one horse, Cinderblock?"

His face lit up. "I didn't know you watched races!"

"Me, Al, and Winry went out while I was there and we saw a steeplechase. Kind of cool... it'd be fun to be a jockey for one of those races..."

"You'd have to lighten up the automail, though... of course, that could count for a handicap..."

Ed grinned as Jean flitted away to a world of his own. So Ed tapped him on the arm. "How do you know about Cinderblock?"

"Oh. That. My family raised him from a colt. His father was one of our best stallions." Changing the subject, he said, "I wonder how long it's going to take me to resign."


	39. Girl

**Girl**

"Now, be nice, Ed. My sister isn't really used to the big city. She's a farmgirl and almost painfully shy."

"Sounds like Al."

"She's ten times worse," Havoc remarked, grinning. "But I think you'd like her."

They heard a distant train whistle. Ed looked at his watch. "Ten minutes late. The train service is going down the tubes."

"Quit griping. You're the one that volunteered to keep me company."

"No, I volunteered to come to keep Mustang off your ass and to satisfy my curiosity about your family. I guess it's too much to hope that they're even slightly saner than you are?"

"Shut up."

After a few more minutes of waiting, the train slid to a halt with the ear-rattling screech of ungreased gears.

"Finally," Ed muttered, and Havoc bopped him across the head.

"Mind your manners."

"Owww..."

"Jean! There you are!" A rather thin blond girl in a dark blue jacket ran up to them. "I'm sorry about being late, but there was a problem with the engine or something... I hope it didn't annoy you..."

Havoc grinned. "Emily, stop being so insecure. Trust me, I have a lot of time to kill."

The girl threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you, Jean. Are you really and truly coming back to the farm?"

"Really really. The papers were in yesterday morning."

"And?"

"Well, verification takes time, spratling."

Emily rubbed her face into Havoc's shoulder. "I hope you come home soon. Daddy's getting sicker and me'n Mike are getting worried. Mom's out in Risembul talking to Auntie and Will."

"I'll be home before Yuletide, even if I have to go AWOL. I'm sure my superiors won't mind."

That earned a snort from Ed, who had been quietly waiting in the background. Emily peered over her shoulder. "Oh, you're so adorable! You must be Ed."

Ed's eyebrow twitched. In his book, 'adorable' was synonymous with 'young' which was synonymous with 'small'. But Emily had swept him up in an enthusiastic hug and Havoc just grinned in the background.

"Jean's told me so much about you, like you're his little brother! I'm so glad you took care of Jean while he was hurt!" Ed got treated to the feminine version of the Havoc family smile.

It almost gave him a nosebleed.

Havoc (being the jerk he was) just laughed. "Well, come on you two. Let's go get something to eat. I'm starved."

Emily quieted immediately. "Um, maybe I should go back to your apartment while you get food," she quavered. "You know I don't like Central."

"I know, kid. Ed, do you mind being helpful for once and escorting Emily home?"

"Sure. No problem."


	40. Girl II

**Girl**

"Ooh!" Emily's eyes lit up in childish delight. "I haven't had sweet peas in ages!"

"Just for you, kiddo," Havoc said, kissing her on the top of her head. "And we've got an apple pie for dessert."

Light blue eyes suddenly went dreamy. "M'mm... you really do remember all my favorites!"

Ed shifted in his chair. The seventeen-year-old girl really was a bright spot in the apartment, cheering Jean up immensely. And it didn't help that she was so darn _cute_. Not pretty. Just... _cute._ She was like a younger female version of Jean himself, with the same impish grin, same straw hair tamed into a long plait, a smattering of freckles and sapphire eyes just a bare shade lighter than Jean's.

_Adorable? That's not me, that's her..._ He knocked that thought out of his head.

"... and chicken pudding, too? Oh, Jean, you're spoiling me!"

"Of course I am, you twit. You're my favorite sibling."

Ed snapped back to the real world. "Wait... chicken pudding? Who exactly are you spoiling here?"

"Ed also likes the stuff," Jean explained to the innocently mystified expression on Emily's face. "He hardly ever leaves any for me when I make it."

A patented Havoc Family™ smile flashed across Emily's face. "Really? I think I like you even more, Ed."

This time, he really _did_ nosebleed. He shoved a gloved hand against his nose in an attempt to stem the crimson tide.

"Oh, Ed, you're bleeding! Let me help!" She unfolded a handkerchief and held it to his nose. "Will you be all right?"

Havoc squawked with badly-suppressed mirth. Ed glared painful, pointy death at the man.

_I can't help it if you two are so bedamned lovable!_

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Hey, everyone? Blame Ed's ignoble doom on sketchyheart. That's where I got this idea from, and I quote: "He. Emily is cute. I suddenly desire Ed to start nosebleeding on her. 'Oh, Ed, you're bleeding! Let me help.'"

Yes, this is going to become another multi-parter, considering I only have two more titles to go and an epilogue. In other words, there's just no more space to really play with Ed and Emily unless I expand 'Girl' into an arc... ohh...

That pinging sound you hear is an evil idea.


	41. Girl III

**Girl**

"She's in bed," Jean announced, quietly closing the bedroom door behind him. "And probably asleep."

Ed looked up from the alchemy book he was trying to read. "Seems like a sweet girl," he commented.

"Don't even think about it, kid," Jean said, plopping down onto the couch. "She's taken. Mike's been keeping his eye on her for a good few years now..."

"Mike?"

"Stablehand and our stud master. Invaluable guy. He's sweet as can be and he's already like family. He and Emily have been running the farm since Dad got sick, and they'll probably keep doing it until I manage to get away from Central."

"Stud master?"

"He keeps records of the bloodlines we have going and knows which stallion's been mated to which mare." Jean pulled a blanket around his shoulders and snugged down into the couch. "It'd only make sense that our head stablehand marries our best jockey."

"Emily's a jockey? You wouldn't think it because she's so... well..."

"Fluff-brained?" Jean said wryly. "That she may be, but once she gets into the saddle, she's ruthless. She's won more races on Eastfold horses than most other jockeys have in their careers." He sighed. "Besides, it'd be good that they have children. That way the stables stay in family hands since it looks like _I'm_ not getting married any time soon."

"Why not?"

Jean's blue eyes twinkled cheerily. "Don't wanna."


	42. Girl IV

**Girl**

Emily stood on tiptoe to kiss her brother goodbye. "Take care of yourself, Jean. I want to see you healthy and in one piece once you come home." She smiled shyly. "Oh, and that stallion of yours is ready to run next season."

Jean's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really really. He's doing well. He had a run-in with a barbed wire fence and has some scars on his right fore and left hind. He healed cleanly, though, and he's just as strong as ever."

Jean chuckled. "That's fitting. When are you going to run him?"

"The first meet at Central Racetracks. He's a steeplechaser through and through. One of Teacosy's best foals. He's stubborn and bull-headed and doesn't take well to direction. But he's great over hurdles."

"Have you tried him over fences and the water jump?"

"We're training him with the fences now. He's got more enthusiasm than sense, but I think he'll be a champion and Mike and Daddy think so too."

The train whistle blew. She threw her arms around his neck. "Come home soon," she whispered. "We miss you so much."

With that she ran off and disappeared, and Jean stared after her hopelessly.

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Whoo hoo! End of the 'Girl' mini-arc! Only three more chapters and the epilogue to go! Thanks for all the reviews... and...

I'm sorry for any mistakes made in any of the drabbles (I probably should have put this in the beginning of _Sapphire and Onyx_, but oh, well). I have no beta reader and my editor only goes after the serious stuff. Most of the time this is hot off the press (i.e. posted less than three minutes after I finish), so forgive any mistakes. (sorry for the insecurity attack, there.)

LOVE to my reviewers! –super huggu!–


	43. General

**General**

"You've been discharged with full honors, Captain," Roy said formally, congratulating him. "As per your request, you will be released from service immediately, but with a rank increase from Captain to Lieutenant Colonel and all rights and responsibilities that accompany that rank."

He watched tension break in too-bright eyes, watched the tall, lanky body relax. He gritted his teeth. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure, Lieutenant Colonel." He glanced at the taller man. "May I inform you that your coworkers are planning a surprise party for you at the bar which my staff has frequented in the past?"

"Your warning has been noted and accepted, General."

"... it's Roy, now, Jean. You're not military anymore. You've been honorably discharged. You're a civilian."

"And thank god for that." That disarming, mischievous, authority-defying, _lovable_ grin flashed across Jean's face. "You going to show up too, sir?"

"It's Roy, Jean. You're your own man now. You can at least _address_ me like I'm a friend, even if I'm not."

_Damn_. That was the entirely wrong thing to say. Shutters slammed down over sapphire eyes and his entire body stiffened. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't know I was being rude."

He sighed. Damn both their prides to hell. "Don't apologize. It's my fault, too. You want a ride down to the bar?"

"Sure. Maybe we can surprise the surprisers."

_If only_... Roy knew he hadn't meant it that way, but... just... _damn_. The hormones were kicking in with a vengeance.


	44. Gem

**Gem**

Breda was in the corner snoring. Broche was still battling it out over the dartboard with Farman, Liza was playing a killer game of checkers with Ross, and a bunch of the other military guys were trying to outdo each other in a 'Who Can Sing a Barsong the Absolute Worst' contest. It nearly made one's ears bleed.

Jean had his back to the bar, watching the bedlam with a tolerant, goofy grin. A half-smoked cigarette rested between forefinger and middle, a barely-touched glass of scotch on the bar next to him.

"You feeling okay?" Roy asked after a bit.

"Yeah... just thinking about how I'm going to miss all of it. It'll be quiet and comfortable out in the country, but I'll miss these twerps."

Roy smiled. "Yeah. I guess spending more than a decade with these goons really makes them grow on you."

"Ah, well." Jean stubbed out his cigarette. "I'll be in and out of Central a lot once racing season starts up again."

"M'mm..."

"You should come see the horsed," the blonde said, watching as a poorly-aimed dart clipped Fury's glasses. "You'd like a few of them – Sandcastle's got your disposition exactly."

"So now you're comparing me to horses." Roy sipped his drink. "I feel _so_ lucky."

"Well, hey. You'd always be able to talk to me at a race." Roy perked up at that. " Trainers usually wait with the owners during the race, but I like cheering from the front stands." Jean grinned. "That way I can cheer my sister on without pissing anybody off."

"Cute."

Jean got and wandered off towards the dartboard. "Be back in a few."


	45. Geode

**Geode**

"Move it, slackers!" Jean yelled. "Get those horses in shape, dammit!"

"Slavedriver," Mike murmured, grinning. "I guess military _does_ rub off."

"Quiet you, I'm concentrating."

"On what?"

"I think Teabiscuit has a limp in her near hind. What do you say?"

Mike squinted. "By golly, I think you're right."

Jean winced when Mike bellowed for Teabiscuit to go back to the stable. The young man sounded a little _too_ much like a Drill Sergeant.

"Who all is racing tomorrow?" he asked, watching a steel-grey, four-year-old stallion bounce across the field.

"Butterbur under Tirrold's colors, Padfoot under Goethe, Snowdancer under Fritz, and Fullmetal under stable colors."

"Emily, keep Fullmetal's head straight, otherwise he'll hurt himself!"

Mike sighed. "Are you even listening?"

" 'Course I am," he said with a disarming smile. "Butterbur, Padfoot, Snowdancer, and Fullmetal. Are they all running in the same race?"

"Padfoot and Fullmetal are. The other two are running before and after."

"So we'll be done before five."

"Oh, yeah. We'll be finished by three."

"Good."

"What, you're coming too?"

"Hell, yeah. There are a few people in Central that I'd like to meet up with. I'll probably be staying a few days over, if you don't mind."

"Huh. It's not like _I_ have any say in all of this."

"Jean! Jean!" One of the stablehands came charging over the down behind the house. "Phone for you!"

"Who is it?"

"One General Mustang, Army Chief of Staff. Should I tell him to stuff it?"

Mike couldn't help but notice the small grin on his boss' face.

"Hold it, Mike. I may be staying more than just a few days over. I _do_ have to congratulate my former superior."


	46. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Simplicity Speaks for Itself**

Roy Mustang had taken to watching steeplechase races when one was at the Central Racecourse. Sometimes Ed tagged along with him, sometimes he didn't.

Rationally, Roy told himself that he was relaxing, that he enjoyed watching the magnificent horses flashing across the finish one mere seconds behind the other. That played an important part.

But it wasn't the real reason.

He wanted to see Jean again. _Yes_, he knew that obsession was unhealthy. But... it's hard severing all ties after so many years of intense attachment. Ed had told him at one point (after the boy had also resigned and became just another civilian alchemist) about what Jean had told him.

Damn, that had hurt.

Even though he knew it was so very, very wrong.

Every time he went to the races, there was always at least one of Jean's horses in each race. Teabiscuit, Sandcastle, Padfoot, Rattail, Snowdancer, Breezy City, the list went on and all. They were all magnificent beasts.

But the best was the stable's prize stallion, Fullmetal. The horse that Jean had had since it was born. The horse that Jean had helped to train when he was on leave. The three-million dollar horse.

Roy privately thought that the horse's name should have been Havoc, not Fullmetal. The precocious youngster reminded him sharply of the first days that he had known Jean, back in the Ishbar war. It reminded him of the headstrong Sergeant that had saved his life at one point.

"Wake up, sleepy," a familiar voice teased over the wind. "Don't tell me you're going to miss the race of champions."

"Shut up, Captain," he growled automatically. "I still haven't forgiven you for the grapes."

"That was more than two years ago," the man protested, laughing. "You sure hold a grudge."

"There are a number of ways that I can answer that, Captain. I'll choose the direct way: screw you."

"That's not very nice, especially since I haven't seen you for a while."

Roy turned around, fully expecting to see the neatly-dressed trainer that he had always glimpsed. Instead, he found a man dressed like a stablehand. "What the...?"

"Mike's pretending to be me again," Jean said cheerfully. "I told you, I don't like being a trainer like that."

"What if Fullmetal wins?"

Jean shrugged, carefree and happy. "Then he does. Mike takes the picture with him, I stay just another trainer. Publicity never was my style."

... _god, there are so many meanings layered in that_...

"By the way, congrats on the Ultimate Promotion, Roy. I'm glad you made it."

_President_ Roy Mustang smiled. "It makes it worth it to hear you say that, Jean."

A tan, calloused hand rested on the railing, close to his. "I told you I'd support you all the way. I'm sorry for copping out on you like that."

"Don't apologize. It's not needed, trust me. I knew you would come back if I asked."

... _wouldn't you?_

The tall blonde laughed. "You know me way too well. All you would have had to do was tell me to, and I would have followed you to hell and back... or to whatever you godless alchemists call hell." Friendship, respect, love, everything shone out of those clear blue eyes.

He slid his hand along till it barely touched Jean's. "I know. Believe me, I know."

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It's done. It's finally done. Jean and Roy are back together (after all, this was originally an alternative to the twelve Havoc/Roy themes). I'm sorry Liza/Jean and Ed/Jean people out there. I had to finish what I set out to do. If you ask _really_ nicely by email, you might convince me to write another pairing involving Jean. But I still have to finish **_24_** before I do anything of that sort.

Thanks so much to each and every person what that left a review. You kept me going and made me keep churning out ideas even when I felt like I couldn't keep a halfway decent fic going. Torii, I have to thank you, and same with sketchyheart. You two are my two most vocal fans, and I love you for it. I _always_ looked forward to reading your reviews. (sketchyheart, where's that Ed doodle, h'm? -I heart you-)

–waves– Well, moray the chibi alchemist signing off for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it.


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